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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433858">A Pickpocket's Punishment</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf'>ColetheWolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Smut Bomb: May 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Stiles, Breeding, Derek Hale Has a Big Dick, Dirty Talk, Flirting, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Making Out, Rough Sex, Sloppy Makeouts, Stranger Sex, Top!Derek, cocky!stiles, pickpocket!au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:22:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,772</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433858</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles pickpockets a handsome stranger on his way home from work. Unbeknownst to him, the handsome stranger is a werewolf, who ends up tracking Stiles back to his apartment to teach him a lesson about thievery.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Smut Bomb: May 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764541</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>629</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Pickpocket's Punishment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This one was fun to write! I hope you guys like it! Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The vast majority of people would most likely assume that being the son of the city’s sheriff meant living a life of following the law and waking up every morning with the desire to be a good, upstanding citizen. However, those people were wrong in their assumptions. See— Stiles Stilinski was a twenty-two year old college student and incredibly intelligent. He attended all of his classes, turned in all of his assignments on time, and worked part time at the local hardware store. To the naked eye, Stiles was a pillar of good behavior— exactly what people expected from the Sheriff of Beacon Hills’ son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles, however, was skilled enough to work two angles. He attended school and worked a part-time job, but the greatest thrill was working the streets as a casual pickpocket. He wasn’t seriously about it, but he was incredibly skilled with it. He had never been caught by anybody he swiped from and he was sure that even if somebody did manage to catch him, his father would do everything he could to keep him out of jail. And so Stiles felt comfortable and protected in keeping up his unsavory craft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being a pickpocket wasn’t even out of necessity. Sure, he was a college student who lived in his own apartment in one of the not-so-nice parts of the city, but pickpocketing wasn’t about getting extra money. That was just a bonus. The real reason happened to be all about the adrenaline and exhilaration of being able to swipe away somebody’s wallet or cash without raising alarm and without getting caught. If anything, it was fun. And it kept Stiles pleasantly entertained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eight o’clock in the evening signaled Stiles’ release from his shift at the hardware store. He punched out his timecard, pulled on his coat, and said goodbye to the rest of his co-workers— casually exiting the store to step onto the busy downtown street. He was starved for dinner and couldn’t wait to get back to his apartment because he knew that he had a whole half of his father’s baked lasagna waiting for him in his refrigerator that would make an excellent leftover meal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Stiles made his way through the heavily populated downtown area, he shuffled around carefully and made sure to avoid accidentally bumping into the wave of fellow by-foot commuters. But all of his weaving and spinning stopped the moment his eyes caught sight of a total stranger walking in his direction from a few years ahead. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>—Stiles couldn’t help but stare and drool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man was tall and dangerous looking. He walked with a serious, reserved gait— like he was on some kind of mission and couldn’t relax enough to take in the warm summer night air. The man’s face was like that of a model, though. He had thick black eyebrows that seemed furrowed in discontent. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass. And all Stiles really wanted to do was make-out with the dude for a couple seconds...minutes…..hours, even, to get a sense of what it would feel like to get burned by the man’s stubble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Stiles knew damn well that the broody modelesque stranger was way out of his league. Stiles scored fellow college students with absolutely no problem whatsoever, but the oncoming stranger looked as though he was at least ten years older. Stiles figured that he was the last thing the stranger wanted to spend his time on. But that was all fine and good. Stiles wouldn’t get to suck the guy’s dick— but he would be able to swipe the dude’s cash. Stiles’ fingers were itching to pull off a quick swipe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was simple—Stiles had done it hundreds of times before. Casually, Stiles took his own phone out of his pocket and began to pretend as though he was talking to somebody on the other line. It was to make himself seem inconspicuous, harmless, and busy—as though his mind was focused on having a conversation rather than planning to swipe somebody’s wallet. As the oncoming stranger drew nearer and nearer, Stiles made sure to keep himself from making eye contact with the future wallet-less victim. That way, the stranger wouldn’t have the time to establish a memory of Stiles’ face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Stiles’ eyes were analyzing every bit of the stranger—taking mental notes of how fast the man was walking, how big of steps he was taking, and where his arms naturally swung with the rhythm of his walk. Even though Stiles’ eyes wanted desperately to focus on how the stranger’s biceps and pecs stretched the fabric of the shirt he was wearing so obscenely that Stiles thought he ought to report the man for indecent exposure, Stiles quickly noticed that the pocket of the man’s jacket was heavier and sagging just slightly with a square shaped objects—a wallet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it happened—quickly and without issue, just as Stiles had done many times before. Just as soon as the stranger was about to pass by, Stiles “accidentally” stumbled over one of the sidewalk slab’s cracks, “accidentally” knocking forward into the stranger— swearing out obscenities and “nearly” dropping his phone. And before the stranger realized what hit him, Stiles slipped his fingers into the man’s coat pocket, pulling out an older leather wallet, before quickly pocketing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh—fuck, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Stiles muttered quickly, giving the stranger a brief wave of an apology, keeping on with his casual strut whilst pretending to talk on his phone. “No, not you Scott, I accidentally bumped into somebody……”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles waited a handful of seconds, carrying on with his fake phone conversation, and then looked over his shoulder. Much to his own pleasure, the hot stranger was a half a block away, completely unaware of the fact that his wallet had been stolen. Stiles pocketed his phone with a brief chuckle, running his hands through his hair in a self-satisfied kind of way. He turned down one of the streets and set towards where his apartment complex was located. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>⋯</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles slipped into his apartment and locked the door behind himself. He switched on the lights and then reached into the pocket of his jeans—pulling out his keys, his wallet, and the hot stranger’s wallet. Stiles tossed his keys and wallet over to the small table that was situated next to the front door, just so that it was in a place he wouldn’t forget to check before heading out for school in the morning. And then he turned his focus onto his prized item. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wallet was old and leather, but the edges were all scuffed up and the wallet’s natural fold had gone limp. Stiles opened it up and sighed out a breath of intrigue as he caught onto the stranger's driver’s license. He thumbed it out of the wallet’s worn plastic protector and then held it out towards the source of low light that radiated from the small lamp in his small living room space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello there, Mr. Derek Hale of 566 Cobalt Court, Beacon Hills, California.” Stiles chimed, beaming down to the license. “Whew—I sure know how to pick them. If I were some kind of creep, I’d keep this instead of tossing it back into the mailbox to get returned to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles tossed the license onto his coffee table and then rummaged through the rest of the wallet’s card slots. “Hmm…..old loser lotto tickets—you a gambling man, Derek? Gift card to Burger Barn—that’s a keeper, wonder how much is left. Ooh, an entrance token to Jungle— damn, I really do know how to pick ‘em. A gay bar, Derek? Do you play for my team or are you a boring bouncer there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> you were carrying a bank in your pocket!” Stiles shouted, tugging open the part of the wallet that was made to keep loose bills. Stiles pulled free two hundred dollar bills, giving them a slight wave in the air, unable to wipe the grin off of his smug face. “You are the gift that keeps on giving, Mr. Hale—it was great to spend this evening with you, thank-you, thank-you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles snorted and tossed the emptied wallet over to land on his coffee table where Derek’s driver’s license had already been dropped onto. Everything—at least, all of the contents of the wallet that Stiles hadn’t personally elected to keep—would get stuffed back inside and dropped off at a mailbox after getting wiped down for prints. Stiles may not have inherited his father’s propensity for following the law, but he had inherited some of the finer details of “how not to get caught for a crime”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a quick shower, Stiles strut back out into the living room and kitchen area of his dim, heavily shadowed apartment—ready to take on dinner. He was freshly washed and wiped clean from the long day of school and work, dressed in a simple t-shirt and pair of tight boxer briefs that hugged the curve of his ass—not that Stiles had planned on anybody seeing him in them. He made his way over to his fridge and grabbed onto the handle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lasagna time.” Stiles cooed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But just as soon as Stiles was about to pull open the door, he was thrust forward from behind and pinned up against the refrigerator’s face by an unseen, incredibly strong force. It was one man—Stiles could faintly see a masculine shape from the corner of his eyes from where his face was smashed against the cold fridge. One of the intruder’s hands was firmly placed against Stiles’ back and the intruder’s other hand was firmly clasped against the back of Stiles’ head— holding him in position, keeping him from moving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Okayokayokay</span>
  </em>
  <span>—nobody needs to get hurt, I got you—okay?” Stiles rationed, trying to remain calm and collected. “Look, I just got paid—two hundred dollars right over there on the coffee table. Just take it and nothing else needs to happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger cleared his voice, sounding interestingly satisfied with himself. “Two-hundred dollars, huh? Take anything that didn’t belong to you, kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—uh, no…” Stiles tried, but the stranger increased his hold, making Stiles yelp out. “Yes, yes—fine! Okay, is that what you wanted? You caught me. I knocked a wallet off some random dude on my way home. There—happy with yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Stiles’ whole body was spun around to face the stranger and then pushed back into the refrigerator for the second time. The stranger held the brunt of his forearm against the broadness of Stiles’ lean chest, still keeping him held in place. But this time, Stiles was able to see who the hell had broken into his apartment to interrogate him about the stolen wallet. And to Stiles’ bewilderment, the intruder interrogator was the hot stranger that Stiles had stolen from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles knew that the rational thing to do was fear for his life. After all, a complete and total stranger had just broken into his apartment and pinned him up against the fridge. But Stiles couldn’t help but stare into the man’s eyes—calmed. Somehow, the stranger was even hotter this close. Stiles could smell spearmint wafting out of the man’s mouth—he had been chewing gum. Stiles could feel the man’s body heat radiate out against his own. Somehow Stiles didn’t feel scared—at the very least, he felt annoyed that he couldn’t move. But realistically, it was kinda hot getting pinned by a hot stranger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What—did you follow me back to my apartment?” Stiles questioned smoothly, analyzing the man’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what if I did? You seem like you’re hardly in the position to tattle on me, you fucking weasel.” Derek bit back cockily, nudging his forearm harder into Stiles’ chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles couldn’t help but stare down to Derek’s lips as the man talked. They were entracing, so much so that Stiles had to take a moment and recollect what the man had just said. It wasn’t his fault that he was distracted. It was Derek’s fault for being a fucking creep. Stiles kept telling himself that he was the victim, even though he knew damn well that he wasn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how did you even find me?” Stiles scoffed, wiggling around against Derek’s dominating hold. “I watched you walk down the street and out of sight. There’s no way in hell you were able to track me down. Was it some kind of setup or something? You had another guy watching my moves?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a werewolf.” Derek admitted confidently. “All I had to do was pick up on where the scent of my wallet and yours met. And it led me here—to you, thief.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A werewolf?” Stiles’ face contorted in disbelief. He scoffed with a laugh. “Yeah. Okay, buddy. You’re a werewolf and I’m a Leprechaun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you’re not. Leprechauns would’ve masked their scent before trying to steal from wolves.” Derek said knowingly. He let his eyes glow bright red and watched as Stiles’ mouth dropped in genuine shock, followed by the unmistakable smell of arousal wafting up from the boy’s direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy Christ on a cracker of everything that’s good in this hellscape we call Earth.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Stiles babbled quickly, breathing hard. “That’s so fucking hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the boy’s boldness. He watched Stiles’ bright hazel eyes glisten with interest. Clearly, he was telling the truth. Derek didn’t even need to tune in with his enhanced werewolf hearing to listen to the boy’s heartbeat flutter with excitement—he could already feel it quickening where his forearm was still pinning the boy against the fridge. What was worse, however, was the fact that the smell of Stiles’ arousal that seemed to permeate the entire apartment, having a distinct effect on Derek’s own body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell of Stiles’ arousal was intense—as though he hadn’t fucked in days, weeks even. It smelled like enthusiasm and anticipation. It was so strong that it actually stung Derek’s nose. It made his skin tingle. It briefly made his head go all foggy. And unfortunately, Derek was quite sure that Stiles was already well aware of what the scent of his own arousal was doing to other parts of Derek’s body—after all, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span> was jabbing the boy in the thigh as solid proof. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Stiles who kissed first. He couldn’t stop himself. It was as if his lips were drawn in to Derek’s under some strange force. But the moment that his lips met Derek’s, the whole world seemed to fade away. Stiles didn’t care about anything—not the wallet, not the fact that he was making out with the guy who had broken into his apartment, and certainly not the leftover lasagna in the fridge. All he wanted to do was touch Derek, pull at him and kiss him and draw him closer than they already were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek kept Stiles pinned but eased into the sudden kiss. He melted into it, actually. Stiles tasted like pure desperation, which would’ve probably been embarrassing for the boy to hear outright, but Derek thoroughly enjoyed it. Derek wasn’t the kind of guy to hook-up often, but there was something about Stiles that was different. A sort of inherent connection that he was sure the both of them felt— so strong and so passionate that it pulled their bodies together and wouldn’t let them break away, not even if they wanted. It felt too good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles groaned against Derek’s lips. Their heads tilted around and swayed as their lips remained locked for long periods of time, only breaking away to take in quick and rough breaths of air. All of their noises—their moans, groans, and obscenities were swallowed down into nothingness. At the same time, Stiles’ hands began to explore Derek’s body. One of his hands slid into Derek’s coat, along the man’s beefy chest muscles. Meanwhile, his other hand trickled down to rest on where Derek was hard in his tight jeans, throbbing and begging to be touched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Derek relinquished his pressing hold against Stiles' chest. Like Stiles’, Derek’s own hands decided to wander. His palms dragged down the boy’s chest, feeling the moderate amount of muscle that was hidden under Stiles’ t-shirt. Stiles wasn’t muscular, but he was lean and light. Derek figured he played some kind of sport, possibly one that wasn’t as physically demanding as typical college sports. His hands travelled upward and finally found themselves softly held at either side of the boy’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the while, Derek’s hips ground slowly into where Stiles’ hand was clasped around his erection. Stiles was eager, but knew how to take things slow. He had experience. He had done this before, many times before, though obviously not under the same circumstances. And Derek liked that—he liked being something Stiles hadn’t tried before. He liked being the experience. And Stiles definitely liked it too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles’ body wasn’t down for the count. It was live and just as enthusiastic as Stiles’ kissing. Derek let one of his hands slide back down Stiles’ torso and slip under the waistband of the boy’s boxer-briefs, tentatively wrapping his fingers around the boy’s fully hard cock. Derek gave Stiles a few solid strokes, feeling the boy’s breathing hitch in response against where they continued to kiss. Derek could feel it, without even looking, Stiles was bigger than average, and leaking profusely against Derek’s knuckles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles swirled his tongue around with Derek’s, growing sloppier by the minute. At the same time, his hips involuntarily gave slow and languid thrusts into where Derek’s hand was firmly gripped around his dick. He couldn’t believe that this was happening—getting it on with a stranger from off the street, one who had literally broken into his house—but somehow that only made it all that much hotter inside of Stiles’ mind. His body reacted accordingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In slow, careful succession, Stiles removed Derek’s coat—pulling it over the man’s huge muscles and letting it fall down to the floor of his kitchen. Next, he tucked his fingers underneath the hem of Derek’s shirt and pulled it up the man’s body—feeling his hands slide along the sides of Derek’s waist as he did it. And when Derek’s shirt was finally pulled away—dropping right down to where his coat had already taken its place on the ground—Stiles pulled away from Derek’s lips with a hasty, sloppy breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s naked torso was right there in all of its shiny glory and all Stiles could do was stand there and stare like some kind of fool. But it wasn’t his fault. Derek’s body was top tier. Stiles couldn’t even blink away from his shameless gawking. His fingertips flew to touch at Derek’s muscle. He ran his fingers along the ridges of Derek’s abs, through the tiny trail of hair that led up the man’s stomach and right to where he was even more hairy across the beef of his pectorals. And fuck—Stiles wanted nothing more than to suffocate himself in-between Derek’s pecs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It became incredibly clear to Stiles that Derek was some kind of gym-nut. That, or perhaps being a werewolf made him unbelievably ripped. Or perhaps it was a mixture of both. Either way, Stiles was certain that Derek took great pride in his body. At least, when he wasn’t breaking into people’s apartments to reclaim his stolen possessions. But hey—everybody had their hobbies. Stiles had his and there was no way in hell he was going to stop if it brought him handsome men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden, Stiles gave Derek a knowing and confident look and then dropped down to his knees, right there on the kitchen floor. From underneath his thick lashes, Stiles looked up to where Derek towered above him—looking expectant and hungry for what was about to happen. Stiles smirked and got his fingers onto the man’s belt, quickly unbuckling it and tearing it free from the loops of Derek’s jeans. And then he unbuttoned Derek’s jeans and unzipped them, grabbing onto the waistline and slowly easing them down Derek’s thick, hairy thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles was expecting to see a cock—but he wasn’t expecting to get hit in the face with it. At least, not so suddenly. Derek wasn’t wearing any boxers, so just as soon as Stiles pulled the jeans down past the man’s crotch, the weight of Derek’s huge and hard cock sprung up and smacked against Stiles’ chin. All Stiles could do was take a moment to marvel at how huge and fat and juicy Derek’s cock was, quickly gripping his hand around it’s insane girth. It felt so heavy in his hand and so hot. It burned against the palm of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit, dude.” Stiles breathed, stroking Derek’s cock in his hand. He craned down and lapped his tongue across the leaking slit, feeling Derek’s body shudder. “You’re fucking huge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I’ve been told.” Derek said cockily, though slightly shakily. Stiles gave another quick tongue lashing across the head of his cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles smirked up to where Derek was standing, watching the way Derek tried to keep his composure. Oh—he was definitely still tough and dominating and potentially life-threatening, but he knew he was in the mercy of Stiles’ own hand and mouth. And that fact alone brought Stiles so much joy. All he had to do was kitten lick across Derek’s cockhead a few times and watch as the man’s stance faltered slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you gonna punish me, big guy?” Stiles asked smugly, giving the weight of Derek’s cock a suggestive wave. He bat it down onto his lips and then took the head into his mouth for a brief second, letting a few dribbles of the man’s precum coat his tongue. “I’d say I kind of deserve it—stealing your shit and all—it seems like you’re still a little angry with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek growled out—his fingers itching to grab at Stiles’ face and hair. Dirty talk. So that’s the way the kid wanted to play. Derek liked it. His stomach flipped with excitement and his cock drooled out precum. Derek kept his eyes locked down to where Stiles played around with his dick, smearing the precum across his kiss-beaten lips, dipping the cockhead into his mouth. It drove Derek fucking crazy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so you’re a detective now?” Derek rattled brutishly, slipping his fingers into the soft locks of Stiles’ brown hair. “How </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span> was it for you to figure out that people you steal from might get a little pissed about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles dragged a long swipe of his tongue up the length of Derek’s fat cock, sloppily swirling his tongue around the head when he got up to it. “Pretty hard. Can’t say I’m proud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t play two sides of the law— thief…..detective…..pick one.” Derek said, groaning out as Stiles’ tongue washed over him again. The boy was growing bolder with his tongue and mouth, taking Derek’s length further into his mouth each time that he decided to do so. “If I were you, I’d stick with being a thief, cause clearly you aren’t good at playing detective.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm.” Stiles took Derek deeper into his mouthing, humming slowly, feeling Derek’s entire body shake at the sensation. He pulled off with a loud pop. “I can be pretty perceptive, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek cupped the back of Stiles’ head and pulled the boy’s mouth harder into his cock, feeling the way that his length slid into Stiles’ willing throat. “Perceptive, huh? You didn’t even know somebody else was in your apartment until I pinned you against the fridge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles felt Derek’s hips snap and felt as the man’s cock slammed against the back of his throat. He gagged and sputtered around the massive girth, but caught his control. He reached down with one of his hands and flipped down his boxer-briefs, hooking the waistband underneath his balls, and then grabbed onto his cock. He had to jerk himself off. He was so fucking hard and so desperate for stimuation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s pretty perceptive. What if I had been somebody else—somebody a lot less nice?” Derek sneered, jamming his cock further into Stiles’ throat. He held himself there, looking down at where the boy’s nose was smashed up against the soft curls of hair at the base of his cock. “But then again, maybe you would’ve like that, too. Just look at how quickly you dropped down to your knees for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s hip thrusts started slow and became increasingly more starved and quick. He watched as the girth of his cock stretched past Stiles’ lips. He drank in the sounds of Stiles’ throat gurgling and slurping around the fat piece of meat getting stuffed into his mouth. But Stiles took it all like a champ, all dewy-eyed and red in the face. His tongue worked around Derek’s intrusion like his life depended on it, swallowing down spurts of precum with satisfied little huffs of breath. And every time Derek said something else, Stiles hummed with glee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How often do you whore yourself out to total strangers?” Derek asked seductively. There was a slight rasp to his voice that made Stiles’ own cock pulse in his hands. “Fuck—I bet it’s a lot. You like it. Can’t even stop yourself. You know nothing is ever going to feel as good as somebody you don’t know fucking into you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek withdrew his wet cock and grabbed himself at the base, waving the weight of his dick around above the starved look inside of Stiles’ eyes. And then he slapped his cock down against the boy’s plush lips, watching as Stiles’ pink tongue instinctively flicked out to take another taste. He was so fucking hungry for it. And Derek wanted nothing more than to just stand there and watch the boy work him over for hours and hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t.” Stiles muttered raspily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t what?” Derek asked, slapping his cock against the side of Stiles’ cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t—I can’t stop myself. I love it—sucking strangers, getting fucked by them—it feels so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fucking thought so. What a fucking little slut.” Derek snickered, slipping his cock back into Stiles’ mouth. “What turns you on the most about it? That you don’t know them? That you’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>know them? Or maybe it’s because you </span>
  <em>
    <span>might</span>
  </em>
  <span> know them—someday, somewhere, you’ll bump into them again—at the gym—laundromat—school—and they won’t even give you the time of day. They’ll just laugh in your face knowing they had </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> on your kness with their fat fucking cock rammed down your throat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles pulled away from Derek’s cock with a pleasured, desperate “fuck!”. He shot up from where he had been knelt down and took Derek’s lips in for a sloppy kiss. They stood there for a moment and swallowed each other’s tastes. Their hard cocks knocked against one another’s. Derek could taste himself on Stiles’ lips—all of that precum. Derek liked the way he tasted on Stiles’ tongue. Their bodies groaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Stiles groaned. “Do you have something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Derek muttered, pushing his mouth against Stiles’ neck. “But if it’s any consolation, werewolves can’t contract anything. I’m clean—and I wanna fuck the hell out of you….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God— I don’t even fucking care, shit—! Just fuck me.” Stiles said desperately, shucking his boxers down to his ankles— kicking them to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sharp huff of breath, Stiles jumped up into Derek’s arms. Derek caught him without any issues. As to whether or not it was a talent blessed upon Derek for being a werewolf with superhuman strength or because he was physically built to look like a broodier Hercules, Stiles didn’t know—nor did he fucking care. All he knew was that he was about to get some. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek loved the positioning. It gave him so much control and made him feel so powerful. Stiles did his part by wrapping his legs around Derek’s waist, nudging the heels of his feet into Derek’s lower back, whilst also wrapping his arms around the back of Derek’s neck. But it was all an extra precaution that the human wouldn’t even need to worry about. Derek had it, held tightly in his arms. And Stiles didn’t actually weigh that much, which made it a whole lot easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At once, Derek surged forward and knocked Stiles’ back into the fridge for the second time of the evening. With one of his hands curled down underneath Stiles to keep him up in the air, Derek reached down with his other hand and grabbed onto the base of his cock. He fumbled around for a moment, swinging his cock around where it was hard and aiming upward right underneath Stiles’ body. He tried his best to guide himself into Stiles’ tightness, but couldn’t—too caught up in Stiles’ taste. His coordination was shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mmmrmumph</span>
  </em>
  <span>—lemme do it.” Stiles mouthed sloppily at the corner of Derek’s stubbled face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles took one of the arms that he had wrapped around the back of Derek’s neck and reached down, underneath where his bottom half was suspended above the kitchen floor and above Derek’s massive hard cock. He quickly bat away Derek’s own hand and then skillfully wrapped his fingers around Derek’s girth, giving the man a few strokes, before handily guiding the man’s cock right to his own puckered tightness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The helpful guidance was enough. Both of Derek’s hands shot up and grabbed onto Stiles’ slender hips—holding him in place, as if he could even go anywhere. At the same time, Derek let his cock slowly breach the tight ring of Stiles’ hole. He kept it slow on purpose, fighting back his own desire and hunger to just snap his hips up into Stiles’ body. No—he needed this to be slow. He needed Stiles to feel him—feel everything, every inch. So Derek kept at it, listening to Stiles’ moans ring out through the small, darkened apartment. Continuously, deeper and deeper, until Derek completely bottomed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck yeah, baby.” Derek groaned, grinding his hips upward against where he was stuffed entirely into Stiles’ body. “Does that feel good? Such a pretty fucking slut. I knew you would take it so nicely for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So—fucking—full.” Stiles grunted out, giving a slight swivel of his hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek started off with languid thrusts, withdrawing just a few of his inches before sinking back into Stiles’ heat. But as Stiles’ whimpering grew louder and the words that dripped out of his talented mouth became increasingly more desperate, Derek amped up his game. His thrusts became more powerful. They were precise and quick, cutting up hard into the tight walls of Stiles’ hole without mercy—only to find fuel within each of the pitched moans and obscenities that dripped off of Stiles’ tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles had never felt so full. Derek felt so much different than any of the other guys Stiles had had the pleasure to ride. For one, Derek was thick—thick as fuck. And each time he pushed back into Stiles’ heat, Stiles couldn’t stop himself from screaming out with his pleasure. He could feel his body take every inch of Derek and melted into the stretch of it all. And every time Derek thrust out, Stiles’ body involuntarily tried to clench down around the man’s length to keep him stuffed inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only that, but Derek was hot. Not just in regards to his attractiveness, because yes— Derek was one of the hottest guys Stiles had ever gotten to sleep with. The other guys that he had fooled around with at school weren’t ugly by any means, but they operated at different speeds— they were messy and unevolved. Derek was the full package. His extra years had refined his capabilities and Stiles was lucky enough to feel all of it as he was pulled up and down—on and off—of Derek’s massive rod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the hotness—it was a matter of temperature. Stiles couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His brain was way too frazzled from how good his body felt. But Derek’s body seemed to run hot. Derek’s fat cock felt like white hot embers of pleasure getting prodded deep inside Stiles’ body with each thrust and Stiles could feel that intoxicating warmth radiate outward through every fiber of his being. It had something to do with Derek being a werewolf—Stiles was sure of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were fucking made for this.” Derek slurred against Stiles’ neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek continued to bounce Stiles around on his cock— holding at the sides of the boy’s hips. Stiles was still cradled comfortably in his muscular arms. They flexed with the movement of their bodies. At the same time, the fridge that Stiles’ back was pressed back against rocked and jolted and creaked to the time of their combined vicious thrusts. The sound of Stiles and Derek’s bodies slapping up against each other mixed funnily with the sound of everything that was inside of Stiles’ fridge rattling around, but it somehow just made things that much hotter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s fingers pressed hard into the skin of Stiles’ waist—so hard that the boy would probably have bruises in the morning. Meanwhile, Stiles’ neck had been kissed up so nicely that it wasn’t even a question as to whether or not Stiles would need to wear some high-collared shirts for the foreseeable couple weeks or so. Stiles’ beautiful fair skin, all red and sweaty, had been marked so beautiful by Derek’s tongue, his stubble, and the bluntness of his teeth. And that fact alone made Derek’s body feel like it was about to explode. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“F—fu—fu—ck me.” Stiles panted out breathlessly as Derek rapidly jerked his body around. “Go—god fuc—fucking shit. G—give it to—me! Ha—hard—harder, Derek. Yes! Fu—ck yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles hung onto Derek for dear life as he received the best fucking of his twenty-two years of existence. He tightened where his legs were wrapped around Derek’s waist and did the same with where his arms were wrapped around the back of Derek’s thick neck. The bluntness of his fingernails scraped along the tanned skin and rippling muscles of Derek’s back. Meanwhile, Stiles was getting jerked around so violently that his teeth chattered, his sweaty hair flopped around, and Stiles could barely manage to catch his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek switched up his motion just a little bit, adding a well-timed swivel of his hips each time that he pitched up into Stiles’ tight heat. It was nothing more than a small adjustment, but it seemed to make all the difference. Stiles’ moans grew louder and more desperate, less controlled. The same time, Stiles’ hands began to frantically claw around at Derek’s back, scraping and digging into his skin. Derek took it—he healed just as fast as Stiles scratched at him. Derek just pummelled harder into the boy’s body, listening to how unraveled Stiles was becoming with the passing seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“FUCK! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>—no! Fuck—right there, no don’t stop! There—THERE, FUCK RIGHT THERE, DEREK! DEREK! </span>
  <em>
    <span>DEREK!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Stiles begged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles’ screams were so loud that it sounded more like a tumultuous wind whooshing past Derek’s ears. But before Derek could even bother to reach up and clasp his hand down across the boy’s over-pleasured motormouth, Derek felt Stiles fall completely apart in his arms. He felt as Stiles’ body went rigid and twitched ferociously. He listened to the way the boy’s breath hitched and sputtered like he couldn’t even catch it. And Derek felt the searing hot lashes of the boy’s cum spurt out and splash against his own chest and abs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek worked Stiles through it, refusing to let up on his merciless pounding of the boy’s hole. Instead, he pulled Stiles’ quivering form closer into a bone breaking embrace. His hips gyrated wildly and Stiles couldn’t do anything but continue to take it. Derek felt as the boy’s legs uncrossed from where they had been so tightly locked around his lower back, falling lax—still suspended above the ground. They swung around and jolted helpless as Derek held up Stiles’ overfucked weight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want it?” Derek rasped, mouthing at Stiles’ jawline. “Does the filthy little thief wanna be bred deep? Tell me you want it, Stiles. Tell me you want my load. Tell me you want me to ruin you from the inside out—have you dripping with my cum for days after I leave. Tell me. Tell me </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—I want it.” Stiles whispered breathlessly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Breed me!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, Derek’s hips stuttered and he thrust up hard into Stiles’ body, sheathing his entire massive shaft into Stiles’ slicked hole. Stiles gave a great shout and then Derek felt his own orgasm strike him with the speed of a freight train. He groaned and cooed against Stiles’ neck, swivelling his hips around in a slow circle, all whilst feeling his own massive cock pulse and shoot powerful surges of hot cum into the sobbing human that no longer even had the strength to hold on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two stood there for a couple minutes and allowed themselves to come down from their intense highs. Eventually, Derek slowly lowered Stiles down to stand on his own two feet, as opposed to remaining held up in the air—shoved back against his fridge. When Stiles’ bare feet touched the ground, he wobbled for a second and then found his strength. He felt so slow and tired. But he was so sensitive and jittery. He could feel where Derek’s massive load was trickling out of his ass in hurried rivulets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was—” Stiles started, trying to steady his breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better than amazing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek nodded and tucked his spent cock back into his jeans. Stiles shrugged and rubbed nervously at the side of his hips where Derek’s fingers had pressed pretty little bruises. Neither of the two knew exactly what the hell they were supposed to say. After all, Stiles stole Derek’s wallet. Derek broke into Stiles’ apartment. They were both still </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically</span>
  </em>
  <span> unacquainted with one another. And yet, neither of them felt as though they could just peace-out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to—uh, take another shower.” Stiles said awkwardly, rubbing at the sticky wetness that had sputtered out against the plumpness of his ass. “Do all werewolves cum that much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only when we’re turned on.” Derek said. “Really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> turned on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Stiles smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek nodded with a slight grin. “Well—my wallet...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, yeah. I’m actually—y’know, sorry about that.” Stiles said, gesturing over to where Derek’s wallet remained on the coffee table in the living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek picked up his shirt and coat from where they had been dropped down to the floor of the kitchen and then glanced over to his stolen belongings. “Yeah. Well, I shouldn't have—y’know, broken into your house like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah….” Stiles rubbed awkwardly at the back of his head, fidgeting around where he stood facing Derek’s very sweaty, still very shirtless body. “Well, I should go take that shower now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should get home.” Derek nodded and spun around. He walked over to the living room and scooped up his wallet and all of the contents that Stiles had taken out of it. “Goodnight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles watched as Derek walked across the living room to the window that had access to the fire escape. Derek unlatched it and slid it open. Clearly, Stiles needed to invest in better locks. Or an alarm system. But just as Derek stretched one of his legs out of the window to leave, Stiles couldn’t stop himself from yelling out— watching as Derek stopped in his tracks and looked back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>UNLESS—!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Stiles shouted. “Unless you need to take a shower too. For the betterment of the environment and shit. Water conservation. Or for public decency’s sake. No offense but you smell like sex and sweat and cum. Walking home might be a bit embarrassing…..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s eyebrows furrowed in a performative show of understanding. He swung his leg back inside of the apartment and closed the window. “Water conservation. Yeah. That’s important.” He gave a knowing smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And—uh, beating hunger. That’s important too.” Stiles bit at his bottom lip. “I have a whole half pan of leftover lasagna in the fridge. Y’know, for if you might’ve worked up an appetite from partaking in any strenuous activities…..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles smiled. Derek smiled back.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! I hope that you liked it! As always, I appreciate comments, critiques, and suggestions for future fics! Also kudos!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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